


Lola Salamanca

by Bitch_In_The_Blue



Series: Grand Theft Auto: Thirty Years [3]
Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V, Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, Grand Theft Auto: Vice City
Genre: F/M, Gang Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Marriage, Organized Crime, Sad Ending, Separations, Sex, Single Parents, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-15 10:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitch_In_The_Blue/pseuds/Bitch_In_The_Blue
Summary: The first half of two short stories dedicated to the origins and timeline of Lita's life.





	1. What You Missed Out On

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of time skipping in this one, just a series of snippets.

The view from the back windows of his office was the same as ever.  
The gentle glittering of the crystal clear blue water of the Atlantic ocean, the sun beating down hot and bright, high in the sky. Boats of varying shapes and sizes either sped in and out of view, or were anchored out to sea where their passengers either fished, swam, or laid out to tan. He could even make out the quick splash of a dolphin breaching in the distance.   
Peace. And it was all his now.  
Sooner or later, Sonny would figure out how much cash was being withheld, but until then...  
 _Not you again_ , he thought, spotting his uninvited guest settled into the center of his courtyard with a fully reclined lawn chair and boom box.  
  
Twisted Sister played softly through the speakers of the boom box beside her, but she'd be asleep if it weren't for that. The exposed skin around her bikini was warmed pleasantly by the hot sun where she laid out to tan. Say what you will about Tommy Vercetti, but the guy had a back yard with great sun exposure and a bad ass pool all to himself.  
And being his number one enforcer gave her immunity from him being too pissed off at her to _make_ her stay away.  
Hard to believe it'd already been two months since he'd had her abducted off the street with a bag over her head and a gun against her spine. The first time they met, she was on her knees in the sand, he had a gun to her face, and she had to make a deal with him and Lance to stay alive. She'd used knowledge of some of their own men using his cocaine or skimming money as a bargaining chip.  
Oh, how time flies.  
"Why do you think you can keep showing up here uninvited?" He seemed to come out of nowhere, obviously irritated.  
Lita lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head and peered up at him. "I consider it part of my compensation," she said sweetly, faint accent coming through with her words. Six years in the U.S. got rid of most of it, but she still was working at it with some words and phrases.   
"So the hotel isn't good enough for you. You wanna just take my _house_ now."  
"Technically it's not your house, it was Diaz's. _Ese coño_." She sighed, putting her sunglasses back over her eyes and turning over onto her stomach to allow her back to get an even amount of sun. "Why do you wanna argue so much, Tommy? You know you're not actually _mad_ at me."  
 _Cocky little brat_ , he thought. But that's what happens when you have a twenty three year old placed in your upper chain of command. "What makes you say that?" He crossed his arms.  
"Fire me if you are," she placed the delicate, freshly manicured fingers of her right hand to her mouth as she yawned. "You won't."  
Silence.  
"That's what I thought." She smiled.  
They both knew he wouldn't get rid of her. In addition to being his best enforcer, she was also an outstanding distributor. She'd gotten people from her previous gang (Los Cabrones) to start selling his product. His profits increased within a week. Without her, there'd be only marginal sales on the mainland. Not to mention: he liked looking at her.  
She was no Candy Suxxx when it came to her body, and not as flirtatious as Mercedes; but she was still pretty easy on the eyes and was intelligent and commanding- to an extent. She had a certain charm about her. The sort of person who made money and strategy into priorities and knew how to manipulate the masses of the city to pay into her pocket- much like himself. Maybe that was why he wanted to keep her around.  
"You should sit with me. Relax for a while," she offered. God knows he could use it. He seemed so tense all of the time.  
"I'm busy." He started walking back inside. Another failed attempt to tell her to go home. He'd just let her stay... That was what he always ended up doing anyway.  
"Too busy to enjoy what you missed out on in prison?" She propped herself up on her elbows, and he immediately regretted glancing back at her- because the first thing his eyes went to were her breasts. Pressed together in a bright blue bathing suit that might as well have not existed with how small it looked to him. That was the trend now, he figured. He saw the corner of her mouth raise into a smirk, and returned a glare just as Motley Crue's Too Young To Fall In Love started on the radio.  
He hated that look. It meant she knew that he was looking at her. She did it every time she caught him.  
He finally left, rolling his eyes and trying to recover the smallest amount of dignity she claimed when she gave him with a teasing " _Byyyyyyeeeee!_ "


	2. Cheetah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good old fashioned sex scene

_**VCPD CRIME TREE RECORD: LOLA "LITA" SALAMANCA**_  
 _ **\- Born in Cuba, immigrated to Florida in 1980.**_  
 _ **\- Mother (Rosalinda Salamanca) and Father (Eduardo Salamanca) killed in 1980 in gang related shooting. [Lola] Was forced to vacate from home. Current address unknown.**_  
 _ **\- Associated with Umberto Robina, a known affiliate of Cuban street gang Los Cabrones.**_  
 _ **\- Recently sighted associating with Tommy Vercetti. Maintain distance?**_  
  
The hotel room he gave her was always warm and sunny, and a welcome change from sleeping in an abandoned car on the edge of Little Havana.  
The Ocean View Hotel, supposedly where he stayed when he first came to Vice City. It was untouched since he left it (the do not disturb sign remained since then), but he said he kept the room in case of needing a spare place to sleep or cut the cocaine. The sheets and pillows smelled like him.  
It was weird at first, but Lita had come to appreciate it. It at least made her feel less uncomfortable about staying in a room by herself for two straight months.  
Besides... She liked him. Angry old bastard or not, he was pretty good to her.  
Regardless of the gun in her face, the first thing she thought of when she saw him was that he was an attractive older man... And then the gun.  
Aside from that, she wanted him immediately. She chuckled at the memory as she got dressed. She could afford better clothes now that she had steady income. Denim shorts, a Love Fist tank top, and a pair of dirty white high tops that were already worn in with use.  
The cell phone he bought for her rang obnoxiously loud on her bedside table and she answered it quickly, careful to not let her wet curls drip onto the device. "Yes?"  
_"I'm coming to get you right now,"_ Tommy's voice greeted on the other end of the line. _"We've got work."_  
"Almost ready," she said. "I just need half an hour."  
He hung up without another word, and she put the phone down with an annoyed groan.   
  
Tommy pulled up in front of the hotel in a beaten up white Sentinel.  
"Not the Infernus today?" Lita asked when she got in and buckled up.  
"Not today," he said, pulling away from the hotel. "We're leaving this one behind."  
"Ooh," Lita pretended to be excited, crossing her legs. Tommy stole a glance at her bare skin. "Are we going to get another car, then?"  
"We're stealing one. Got a call from someone real interested in an '87 Cheetah. He's gonna give me fifty grand for it."  
"And what are you gonna give me for helping?"  
"We'll see when we're done."  
"Not the answer I was looking for, but fine, as long as you pay me," she sighed, looking over at him. But just for a second. She felt like he'd be able to read her mind if she looked at him for too long. She detested that she liked him. It was like a sick joke- he was twelve years older than her. She figured he probably wouldn't be into women her age-- that is if she hadn't seen how his friend Mercedes once threw herself at him.  
She wasn't sure if she liked Mercedes. They'd never spoken. She ultimately recognized that she was sort of jealous of the younger woman being open about her interest in Tommy.  
"Where exactly are we going?"  
"Washington Beach. It shouldn't take long."  
  
Little did they know there'd be a shootout- which they had to get away from in the 1987 Cheetah they'd aquired for Tommy's buyer. Police sirens started once the gunshots stopped, so they hid and waited it out.  
  
"I can't see them," Lita said, finally breathing out. Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard that she could feel it in her fingertips. Her pulse combined with the pouring rain made it hard to tell if there were even sirens at all. She unbuckled her seatbelt and peered over the dashboard to try to see out. The vine covered ledges of the parking garage at Washington Mall made it easy to hide from anyone on ground level. As long as they kept their heads down, they'd be fine. Hopefully.  
"I don't think they saw us come this way," Tommy said stiffly. He wasn't as nervous and shaken as she was, but she could still see the tremble in his hands and the wavering in his voice when he turned off the stolen Cheetah. He groaned, unbuckled his seat belt, and reclined his seat just enough to attempt to relax a little bit. He hadn't expected there to be Sharks there. At least twenty of them with those stupid vests. "Ohhhh Jesus Christ, I'm getting too old for this."  
"Why keep doing it, then!?" Lita snapped, exasperated. "Just send me or some other asshole under you! Send-- Send Lance to do something for once! What does he even do?"  
"I won't send Lance out on his own for this shit. Or you."  
"Why not? I can handle it. I'd rather go alone."  
"I'm not gonna have to end up saving you. I don't wanna deal with that," he argued. "I had to save Lance's dumb ass once."  
"Ohhhh, _'save'_ me?" She mocked. "Yeah, right. Like I'm incapable and irreplaceable. Just pick another dealer off the street if you don't think I can do it."  
"Will you stop pushing me, for two fucking seconds?" He snapped.  
"Maybe when you stop treating me like I'm fragile!"  
"Then quit," he said, leaning against the driver's side door and rubbing his temples. "You won't."  
He was calling her bluff. A petty reprisal of when she suggested he fire her.  
"What makes you think I won't quit?" She glared, rubbing her sweating palms onto the sides of her shorts. Fucking nerves...  
"Because you like working for me." He said confidently.  
He was right. She hated that he knew it.  
"You're an asshole... Fine. I like working with you. I said it," she rolled her eyes, muttering "gilipollas" under her breath. She knew he didn't understand insults or curses in Spanish that weren't the obvious. Just as she didn't understand Italian.  
"What was that last part?" He may not have understood the insult, but he at least knew it must've been a good one.  
"I said you're a great boss," her sarcasm made him let a laugh slip. She tried to hide an earnest smile. It was nice to see he could laugh at all. She didn't think he could.  
They felt more at ease, going quiet for a few minutes to make absolutely certain that there weren't any sirens in the distance. None to be heard.  
"I do like working for you, though," she broke the silence, suddenly feeling bold. "I like _you_. Even if you can be a complete prick."  
He misunderstood. "Yeah, I like you too."  
"No, I mean, um..." She shifted nervously in her seat, ankles crossing. "I like you." Jesus, what came over her to say it? The thrill of a chase left her feeling loose and probably a little too confident.  
He nodded once he understood. "I figured that."  
"You knew?"  
"It's a little obvious."  
She nodded, mimicking him. "So is your staring."  
"Hm."  
"So..." She said, arms crossing. "That's been said."  
He stole a glance at her. Her foot fidgeted against the floor mats. Clearly nervous. "Yes it has."  
"What should we do about it?" She asked. She knew what she wanted to do about it. She'd have him in that car right then and there. He was another story. He hadn't even said if he felt the same.  
But he wanted to hear her ask him for it. Getting her to say the magic words would be better than just being handed sex. Even better, she probably wouldn't be able to make out the words. All talk and no game. He's have to make the move- and if he did, she wouldn't be able to resist. He knew the right lines. It was easy.  
He hadn't anticipated her leaning his way and looking him straight in the eye to ask  _"Do you want to make love to me, Tommy?"_ in the softest, most shockingly demure voice he'd ever heard from her. She hadn't phrased it any different than if she'd asked him if he wanted to go to the beach.  
Where did this version of Lita come from?  
He thought he'd hallucinated it for a few seconds.  
But the way she looked at him with so much anticipation, full lips gently parted as if preemptively planning to either kiss him or burst into laughter and say "just kidding!" as soon as he offered a response proved that it wasn't a hallucination.  
She really said it. He could usually read a situation like this, but she was... Different. She was a tease- she could pull back the statement at any time if she was playing with him.  
So he'd see how far she'd go before the game ended.  
He coolly looked away from her to turn on the radio in the car and put the volume nice and low. Emotion 98.3. Foreigner was midway into I've Been Waiting. Setting up a mockery of romantic atmosphere for her to chicken out.  
This was probably the first game of Chicken he'd ever played, but he had no intent on losing. He stared her down expectantly, partially closing the gap between them. He wouldn't say a word until she did something.  
And she did do something.  
She leaned in closer and her lips ghosted across the side of his neck. He just about flinched, unused to anyone bothering to kiss him. He didn't usually let anyone get there.  
But Lita wasn't just a quick lay, she was also kind of like his friend.  
He leaned his head away for her to come closer. It felt kinda nice. New and different. He'd had a lot of casual sex after he got out of prison, but intimacy was foreign territory. It almost felt weird.  
The way she became more intense made his breath hitch, and she giggled. The Unfeeling Badass facade was slipping.  
He felt her hand settle on his knee and move upward toward his groin, and she made the smallest provocative noise against his throat- which was when he finally realized that she wasn't just messing with him.  
He buried his hand in her thick curls and guided her to his lips, which she captured with ease.  
The awkward positioning of the two-seated vehicle would make this a challenge. Why the fuck didn't they make these cars with back seats?  
_Whatever, fuck it._  
He kissed her with ferocity as if he had to claim her for his own, and she felt him unbuttoning the front of her shorts and slipping his hand inside. She audibly gasped against his mouth when his skilled fingers reached her clit and moved in small circles all around it.  
Her hand on his upper thigh clenched the denim of his jeans, and her other hand tightly gripped his shoulder. She could barely focus on moving her lips along his with how every stroke made her thighs twitch and spasm. The immodest, unmistakable sound of wetness reached his ears. He felt his manhood pulsate at the feeling of the slickness between her legs. He was hard as a rock and she hadn't even touched him yet.  
Soaking wet already. She must've been a virgin if just kissing was enough to light her fire.  
He'd just have to make this memorable, then.  
She didn't even manage to say when she was about to cum. The words were lost in breathy moans and gasps of the electrifying high when she finally reached orgasm.  
"Take 'em off," he ordered when he slid his hand out of her shorts. He couldn't take it anymore.  
The next minute or so was wordless. A blurred frenzy of half-undressing and greedily touching newly exposed flesh. At one point he did the courtesy of putting on a condom. She didn't even notice it until he reclined his seat and she mounted him and felt the slippery latex as she guided him inside.  
A tremor ran up her spine when she lowered her hips onto him until she was filled.  
This must've been her first time after all, she was tense. Gripping him like a vice the whole time while she rode him.  
Inexperienced, but damned if she didn't make up for it with enthusiasm.  
His cock reached every wonderful part inside of her, and she did her best to keep moving in a way that kept making it happen the way that felt best. He even held on to her waist to guide her.  
Another tremor ran up her back when he thrust into her, and she loudly cried out and doubled over, face to face with him, eyes trained on each other in adoration.  
They kissed feverishly, and the windows fogged entirely from their combined heavy breathing and rising body heat within minutes of starting.  
They drowned out the radio with music of their own making.  
  
They'd have to hideout from the cops more often.


	3. Physical Contact

She placed the blame entirely on the Haitians.  
The rivaling gang to the Cubans. If it weren't for them, she never would've been homeless.   
  
She thought about it a lot.   
  
She wasn't around to see her parents be killed, nor did she hear the gunfire. But she remembered coming home from school and finding a crime scene outside in front of her home.  
A seventeen year old girl who suddenly lost her family.  
What else was there to do when you were alone, barely even off the boat, in a country that hardly even wanted you?  
The worst part was that she knew exactly who did it, as eyewitnesses described the two men to her. One she knew as Jaques Charles. Someone close to the elderly matriarch of the gang: Auntie Poulet. There was no way she could kill him without dying first.  
She stayed with the Robinas for three years, until she was twenty.  
But even Umberto and his father Roberto couldn't protect her from everything while she was with them.  
Robbed, beaten, raped, and left to die in the back of a warehouse in Vice Port at age twenty one by three white men she didn't even know, Lita returned to Little Havana a different person one day, and stayed that person from then on.  
The police never made an effort to find her attackers. They just told her she should've known better.   
  
She blamed the Haitians for the domino effect. Everything that led up to that moment.   
  
She never let anyone new lay a hand on her since then, not even a handshake. She even (non-fatally) stabbed someone once for putting their hand on her shoulder and scaring her senseless.  
So it was twice as horrific when five Vercetti gang members forced her to the ground, tied her hands behind her back, put a bag over her head, and brought her before the boss.  
She didn't stop kicking, screaming, or threatening murder until she was knocked down to her knees and the bag was removed.  
And then she saw him.  
The first person she'd eventually allow contact from.  
  
But since that rainy afternoon in the Cheetah, she'd shied away from him again.  
And he noticed.  
He observed that she didn't flirt or joke anymore, instead seeming disinterested in him. To the point where she barely made eye contact.  
_Just a one time thing,_ he thought. She was probably embarrassed that she didn't save her first time for marriage. Still, it _was_ memorable. He'd have her again if he could.   
He even met up with Mercedes later that week out of convenience- but it wasn't as rewarding. More like a task.   
He found himself reminiscing on how Lita gasped and moaned and cried out his name. It sounded real- not scripted like all the annoying screaming in porn.  
  
She backed off because she knew it meant nothing to him. Why would It?  
Suddenly she wasn't a momentary conquest anymore, she was a completed task. She was only Lita. His enforcer. That was where the relationship ended.  
Moreso she was conflicted with how she'd allowed him to touch her at all. Two years without allowing any more than a hug when she greeted the Robinas.  
And suddenly she jumped into having sex.  
... Fucking _how?_  
Really, what even came over her?  
Still... It _was_ good. Really good- the way movies show sex to be romantic and intense all at once.  
Maybe she'd do it again someday.  
Probably not with Tommy, even though she did want to. She thought about it a lot, and was aroused by the memory each time.  
He got what he wanted, she she assumed he was done trying to have her. It was time to move on with work. Besides, _he_ moved on. That much was clear when she walked past his office and heard Mercedes' ultra-high-pitched moaning. Her face turned red in embarrassment for letting him do the same to her. And maybe she was a little jealous.  
But she told herself she had no right to be jealous.  
Love, sex, and whatever came after that would have to wait.  
  
It had been nine days since the parking garage.   
Lita had settled in on the couch in his office for over an hour now, reading an article about a zombie Elvis in a shitty tabloid magazine, her feet up on the glass table. She didn't look up when Tommy walked in, took something off of his desk, and walked back out. He didn't seem to notice her- until he did a double take and backed into the open door to confirm that he saw her. She glanced up at him, but looked back down to her magazine. Not bothering to say anything. The distance was one thing, but actively avoiding talking to him was just... infuriating.  
"What's the problem?" He had time to talk, it's not like he had anything really going on.  
"What problem? I'm reading," she said, not looking at him again.  
He sighed, crossing his arms. This might take a little longer than he thought. Stubborn girl.  
"You've been different. Why?" It was more like a demand than a question. Talking things out wasn't exactly his style. This was all uncharted territory. "You're not suddenly having 'feelings', are you?"  
"I don't have feelings for you, Tommy. You mean as much to me as I do to you. I'm _not_ different. I just got what I wanted, same as you," she set down the magazine and stood up with a stretch before heading for the door. "I just seem different because you're just not used to women not crawling back to you for more. I'm gonna go back to the hotel."  
"So suddenly I'm not good enough for you?" He interrogated. Her statement wasn't especially upsetting, but it was personal. A half-assed way of trying to get him to leave her alone.  
"Go tell it to your barely legal girlfriend," she condescended, walking past him and paying him no more mind.  
Until he grabbed her by the wrist. "I'm not done talking to you, Salamanca."  
Panic sparked in her veins like circuitry, and she wrenched her arm away from him with a gasp of " _Don't!_ "  
She stared at him like a cornered animal, and then quickly turned on her heel and strode out of his office and down the stairs.  
_What the fuck was that-_  
 _Oh..._  
The realization struck that maybe, before he knew her, someone had laid a hand on her with worse intentions.  
Now he felt like a complete asshole.  
He'd have to apologize for that if he wanted to keep her around. And lo and fuckin' behold: he _did_ want to keep her around.  
  
The knock on her door later that evening wasn't expected. She was getting ready to settle into bed when she got an uninvited visitor.   
"Coming!" She called, quickly pulling on a pair of shorts so she could answer the door.  
She swung it open to find Tommy leaning against the doorway, and she found herself taking a precautionary step away from him. "What?"  
"Who did what do you?"  
She frowned. "Huh-"  
"Who made you..." he made a gesture for her to finish the thought, as he couldn't find the least terrible way to ask.  
But she understood the context. "The way I am?" The polite, _'I'd rather not have this conversation right now'_ answer. "I don't know who they were. But I know who I _blame_ for it."  
"Get dressed."  
"Why-"  
"We're going for a drive and you're gonna fix the problem."


	4. One More Time

She was holding in sobs by the time it was over. Badly. She cursed relentlessly (in English _and_ Spanish) at the body at her feet, and even desecrated him by stomping on him a few times after having put four bullets in his torso and ending his life.   
Tommy stood by and observed, feeling like he shouldn't have watched her in this personal moment. She hesitantly explained who he was and why she needed to do this on the drive over. He made it a point to be careful with her from then on, and never mention it again unless she wanted to talk about it.  
The dead Haitian at her feet was someone she called Jaques Charles. He worked for Auntie Poulet, and was essentially to her what Lita was to Tommy himself as well as Los Cabrones. An enforcer. A lieutenant.  
According to her, he was the only one identified when her parents were killed on the street. And she never forgot about him six years later.  
She finished screaming obscenities at her victim and threw her empty pistol and silencer onto the concrete. They found him in a back alley in Little Haiti- which made Tommy nervous. If someone heard them, it'd be an all out gang war.  
But nobody came.  
"Let's go," Lita said, regaining composure within seconds of finishing.  
It was the first time she had ever killed a man for a reason other than self-defense. Revenge was sweet for a short moment, but she still felt the draining sadness of being left alone thanks to the dead man on the ground.  
She knew nothing of his life since the shooting. She didn't know or care to know that he'd married and had a baby. A tiny girl named Avalon.   
  
They said nothing on the drive back to Ocean Beach, just the sound of the white Infernus' engine roaring as they drove well over the speed limit.   
"Better?" He asked, pulling up to the hotel.  
"I don't know," she answered quietly. Tears had rolled down her face during the start of the drive, but had stopped by the time they crossed the bridge. "You know when you finish something, but you feel like it's still not done?"  
"It'll sink in," he assured. He could relate after he got out of prison and began to work for Sonny again. It just wasn't done. That, he knew. But it wouldn't be much longer until it was. "Go get some sleep."  
It was late by then. One in the morning.  
"Come upstairs with me," she said without thinking. She didn't want to be left alone quite yet. Besides, she discovered that there wasn't much in the world that was as simultaneously numbing and satisfying as an orgasm, and she wanted a shortcut to feel normal again.  
They stared at each other, feeling the same air between them as the last time she suggested it. The need to see how much farther this would go.  
He needed it as much as she did.  
One more time wouldn't hurt- especially now that they had a better understanding.   
  
They were barely even in the room by the time their clothes started coming off. She had to kick the door shut in between throwing her loose white shirt across the room and moving on to the next garment.   
They moved to the bed with haste and fucked like they had to make up for the last nine days of avoidance. He wasn't gentle with her and she didn't want him to be- the incidental romance was absent this time. This was out of necessity instead of on a whim. The feeding of an addiction they'd share from then on.   
  
The family of four in the next room would complain to hotel management about the noise in the morning.


	5. Dozens

Weeks turned into months as this new level of friendship developed and changed- to the point where they went on dates and he no longer just called her 'Salamanca'.  
Tommy eventually gave up on finding the same satisfaction from Mercedes or Candy- especially since Lita was starting to get better in bed. Less tense and more adventurous as she gradually figured out her sexuality and allowed more contact. He never tried to push her into it since she was more than willing to try different things, which they both were grateful for.  
They couldn't get enough of each other, stealing away every few hours on most days to fuck wherever they could find a modicum of privacy- sometimes even places where they could've gotten caught. The beach, on the green at Leaf Links, on the ocean in one of his boats (the waves made it difficult to find balance but it was good for some laughs), one time even near the overlooking ledge in the VIP room of The Malibu.  
They'd never explicitly said it, but actions showed that they grew to love each other in that time.  
  
This continued on and on through the time Sonny and his gang came to kill him, and Lance's betrayal. He told Lita to stay in the hotel and keep her head down during the incident, and she flipped her lid when she came back to the mansion to find it riddled with bullet holes and dead bodies.  
But it was over and done. She eventually forgave him for not letting her be there help.  
  
Lita, being second in command now for the Vercetti gang, assumed enough responsibilities for Tommy to suggest that she just stay at the mansion.   
"You're asking me to move in?" She asked, giving him that classic Salamanca smirk.  
"Yup."  
She leaned over his desk to move closer to him. "Are we gonna share a bed?"  
He stole an obvious glance at the two inches of cleavage above the neck of her shirt before moving up to her face, when he gave her an equally suggestive look. "Obviously."  
"Then I guess I'll cancel on my dozens of other boyfriends," she joked, sitting on the edge of the desk. His hand automatically found its way to her bare thigh.  
"'Dozens', huh?" He chuckled.  
" _Dooooozens,_ " she winked, moving a little closer.  
"I oughta make an honest woman out of you someday," he threatened. "See how your dozens of boyfriends like it."  
She laughed. "Don't kid about that."  
"Who's kidding?"  
  
They said the magic words only moments later. 


	6. Fuck You.

They got married in the summer of 1989 and had a honeymoon in San Fierro.  
Business as usual when they came home, until Ken relapsed into his coke habit for the fourth time in 1992.  
It had taken a toll on the Vercetti's friendship and partnership with him, and they had to intervene. A little bit of research found a good rehabilitation facility out in Las Venturas, San Andreas.   
They paid for it all, and said goodbye to Ken at their airport.   
It was a sad day to say goodbye to the friend who was the best man at your own wedding. But it was for everyone's benefit.   
  
Within a three weeks of Ken's departure, the Vercetti's celebrated Tommy's forty-first birthday. Lita had turned twenty nine a few months earlier. It felt odd to not have their friend around after so long, but they at least were able to enjoy each other's company.   
They went out for dinner and drinks, and came home to celebrate their favorite way.  
  
She flushed the toilet for the third time that morning.  
She vomited several times, to the point where her stomach was emptied and she dry heaved until tears rolled down her face from straining.   
What the fuck was wrong with her? Did she eat something bad? She didn't have anything to drink last night. And she wasn't feverish.   
_Am I pregnant...?_  
 _No, don't be stupid._ She and Tommy used protection every time. They'd been having sex for six years, why would she be pregnant _now_ of all times?  
It had to be something she ate.   
She believed that- for three whole days.   
Three straight days of puking first thing in the morning and not feeling right until late afternoon.   
She began to feel the grip of panic growing tighter in her chest.   
  
"- Well it's no wonder why you've been so sick. You're eight weeks pregnant. Congratulations, Mrs. Vercetti."  
Her jaw dropped, and the doctor knew that wasn't what she was hoping to hear. But he didn't say anything to rescind the statement.   
"I don't- That's _not_ -" she spluttered, hands moving to her stomach and right elbow straining against the gauze and tape. They'd done the blood test instead of the urine test. More accurate, he'd said. "We used..."  
The doctor nodded at his clipboard with her results, no longer willing to make eye contact with the unhappily expecting mother. "Oral and barrier contraceptives _still_ have room for error. They may have been expired or used with poor timing."  
"Oh..." She nodded, tightly gripping the fabric of her shirt.   
"There are options if you want to-"  
"I wanna talk to my husband about it first... He doesn't know."  
The doctor had read her negative reaction and secretive nature of her visit as infidelity. Not to mention the age gap between her and her wealthy husband read poorly to people who didn't know them. She could see it in how he interacted with her. "You'd better start by telling him it's _his_ then."  
"Mhm," she hummed, seething with nerves and irritation at this motherfucker who not only gave her bad news, but insinuated that she was a whore. " _Oh_ \- Doctor?"  
He paused in the doorway, assuming she had more questions. "Yes?  
" _Fuck you_."  
  
Later on, she tried to think up what she'd tell Tommy. Why wasn't there an easy way to say it?   
_Just say "I'm pregnant." That's all it takes._  
Easier said than done.   
She went straight into the bathroom when she got home and vomited again. Fucking nerves!   
She imagined that the fetus inside of her was pissed off that it was made to have _her_ as a mother. She felt bad for not really even wanting it. But it was only because this was no life to raise a child in.   
She was a drug lord's wife in a town where cocaine ran as rampant as the gangs and hardened criminals, and the police were too corrupt to care.   
She would be a terrible mother.   
  
When she was done retching, she brushed the foul acidic taste out of her mouth and tore off the bloodied bandage from the doctor visit. She grimaced at the scab and bruising from the needle, and carefully rinsed off the dried blood.   
She stayed to look in the mirror for a while.   
_Goodbye, body. It was nice having you._  
She turned to the side and tried to push out her stomach in a way that made her look like she had a bump. She wasn't sure if she liked the idea of a bump or not.  
She spent the better part of two hours in the bathroom while Tommy wasn't home. Debating what she'd do.


	7. The Vercetti Name

"There's something I need to tell you..."  
  
He looked up from the stacks of money on his desk. "What is it?"  
She couldn't help but let slip a smile with how he looked at her. A more gentle expression than what he gave other people. She loved him so much.  
"I haven't been feeling well the last few days." She moved closer and sat on the edge of his desk, on his left side so she could move her hand closer to his. She looked at their wedding rings next to each other. They'd been married for about three carefree years. In fact- it was only about five more months until their third anniversary. They were planning to go to Italy. To see where his family came from.  
"I saw a doctor today," she said. "... I'm pregnant."  
She saw his eyes widen slightly. " _How?_ "  
She shrugged. "He said everything has room for error. The condom must've expired."  
He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. They had an agreement on not having kids when they got married.  
She had her reasons- but he just didn't even _want_ kids. Never liked 'em. Never felt paternal instinct about anything, not even the dog his family had when he was a kid.  
But now he was married. His wife was pregnant. Maybe it was worth a shot. After all, it was pretty average for married people to have a kid or two. Kids meant a legacy, much like a business.  
"I wanna keep it." She said.  
"I know. You would've already said if you didn't."  
She looked away from him. "Is that okay? I know you're not-"  
"We can give it a shot." He assured. "We'll have a family if it makes you happy."  
She looked at him with bright eyes. "Really? You're fine with it?"  
"I'm coming to terms with it."  
She gasped excitedly, overwhelmed with relief to where she couldn't stop herself from planting a kiss on his forehead. He moved his chair closer and wrapped his arms around her waist. She did the same around his shoulders and was positively beaming when he leaned his head against her chest. "This is great," she said, setting her chin on top of his head. "We're gonna have a family."  
"Kid's gonna be born with a silver spoon in his mouth, that's for sure," Tommy joked.  
"Better than both of us had combined!" She laughed, on the verge of tears. "You think it'll be a boy?" She was so excited with the idea of having a boy who would grow up to be as handsome and intelligent as his father.  
This was one of the best moments of her life and she'd always remember it-- but mainly for what came next.  
"I have a feeling it will be," he agreed. "I'll hand the business off to him someday. We can retire in eighteen years if we start him off young. Teach him the ropes."  
"... _What?_ " She pulled back from him, jaw dropped. Stomach in knots again.  
He didn't see any issue. "Yeah, he'll inherit the business once he's old enough. Y'know, carrying on the Vercetti name."  
She spoke slowly. "You'd want our baby, who isn't even fully formed yet, to run your _drug empire_."  
He frowned. "I want our baby, who isn't even formed yet, to never have to worry about _money_."  
"I barely want to raise it in this city let alone with the business."  
"What's wrong with Vice City?" He actually looked offended. He ran the city. He practically owned it all. It was like telling an artist that their magnum opus painting was shit.  
Lita, however, was the one who lived there longer. "You're fucking kidding me, right?"  
She was honestly astounded that he didn't get how much she loathed parts of Vice City. The town that shunned her as an immigrant, where the gang violence led to her family being murdered, and where she herself was assaulted just because she was a homeless girl alone on the sidewalk.   
  
There were three days of seething silence and resentment in between cutting remarks about each other's ideas of what made a suitable environment to raise a child. Neither of them was willing to cave into pressure from the other on a situation like this.  
The first argument that actually mattered in the long run.   
  
On the third night, the argument reached its apex. They had reached the point of shouting at each other, until Tommy finally decided he'd had enough for the night.   
"Fuck this, I'm going to bed. You comin'?"  
The grim expression that settled on her pretty face would be a horrid reminder of his choice in words for years to come.  
And the way he looked at her like she'd become an annoyance would haunt her memories whenever she thought of her last night with him.  
She understood that he wouldn't see her side. And that she would have to do this her way, whether he liked it or not.  
Her hand gently settled on her still flat stomach, as if assuring their baby that she would do what was best for it. No matter what the cost. "Yeah."


	8. One Way

She woke up from a shallow half-sleep around two in the morning and turned over in bed to see Tommy sleeping soundly next to her. She sighed quietly and watched him for a few seconds. Probably the calmest he'd been all week. The corner of her mouth raised into a hollow smile.   
He could a complete asshole sometimes, and she never expected in a million years that she would love him. But she did. She always would.   
She moved closer to him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.  
He woke slightly to turn onto his side and pull her closer.   
"I'm sorry for this, Tommy," an apology for what would come.  
"Me too," he slurred his words in his sleep. He wouldn't remember any of this in the morning.  
"I love you."  
"Love you too, Lita."   
She kissed him again, and he reciprocated. Her hand went down the front of his boxers.  
Within minutes, they undressed and she climbed on top of him. It dawned on her that this first time they actually had unprotected sex. Not that it mattered- it's not like she could get any more pregnant. Ironic.  
She wanted to savor this. So she rode him slowly, just trying to feel every last detail all at once and memorize it. From how he filled her until she felt complete, to how his warm hands lazily grazed all over her body as he woke up a little more, to how he reached every part inside of her just the right way, to how their soft, quiet moans combined and gradually grew to just barely above conversation volume as they climbed their way to their peak.   
They shifted so that he was lying over her, finding the energy to thrust into her at a steady rhythm while she kept herself occupied by kissing along his neck the way he liked. Spurred on by the attention to that erogenous zone, he began to move with purpose, forcing himself against her sweet spot. Rough, yet still loving. Taking out the last three days' worth of frustration they shared.  
Lita couldn't take her eyes off of him. She couldn't think of anything other than how she would miss this as she was pushed over the edge.  
It was difficult to clear her mind and just enjoy the moment.   
"I love you," she said again when she came down from the high. "You know that?"  
"I know. I love you too," he yawned. They laid together in each other's arms for a little while, until Tommy fell into a deeper sleep than before. Sated.  
Lita waited until he turned over to get out of bed and put her clothes on.   
This was the time if there ever was one.   
Before she lost her motivation.   
She gathered up some clothes into the backpack she'd had since their honeymoon, slinging it over her shoulder and heading out. She froze at the bedroom door and stole one more look at Tommy in the darkness and had to force down a swell of emotion.  
She left without another word.   
  
He kept the keys to the Infernus on his desk, and she slipped quietly through the mansion in her socks to get them as well as several stacks of money out of the safe. She would count them later to see that she'd taken five thousand dollars.   
After that, she speedily put on her shoes and practically ran outside to the driveway, got into the Infernus, and sped away from their home.   
The radio was on. Loudly blaring Freebird through the speakers for a whole three seconds before she turned it off to drive in silence.  
The trip to Vice Port felt too short. She wanted to hold on to the last few hours in Vice City, but there wasn't hours to be had, only minutes. She parked the car and ran into the terminal, leaving it to gather tickets. Tommy would find it eventually and put the pieces together.  
  
"Las Venturas," she panted. "One way. First available flight you've got- any seat, I don't care."  
The younger woman working at the stand looked unsettled by Lita's bedhead and pajama-like outfit as well as how she was out of breath and slapped five hundred dollars onto the counter.   
"There's a flight going to Las Venturas in forty minutes," she said, clearly unsettled by her customer's appearance. But, she was professional nonetheless. "You might make it if you can get through security quickly enough. Do you have any-"  
"No bags to check. Just a carry on," Lita said, pulling her curls away from where they stuck to the sheen of sweat on her forehead before passing her identification to the employee. "Sorry about the rush."  
"Is everything okay?" The young woman asked, taking her money, checking her ID and filling information into the computer for her ticket.   
"Great," Lita muttered sarcastically. "Gonna leave it all behind and start over at nearly thirty. _Can't fucking wait._ "  
The girl behind the counter nodded sympathetically. "Any particular reason?"  
"Family," Lita hesitantly replied. Mainly to reassure herself that this was a good idea. "I'm starting a family on my own..."  
The girl nodded and offered a smile. "Everyone's better when they leave this town anyway. You'll be okay."  
  
She rushed through security easily with only one bag and few people in line, and boarded the plane at the last call.  
A first class seat, courtesy of the nice girl at the counter.   
She was so tired, but she found that she couldn't sleep.   
If anything, she was certain that she was already asleep and that this was all a dream. It felt surreal.   
There was no way in hell that she would ever leave Tommy.  
  
But she did.  
  
This was real.  
  
It was a good thing that no one else sat in her row on that 4 AM flight. She couldn't hide that she was crying as the plane taxied onto the runway.  
The sight of the ground growing farther and farther away revealed the harsh truth that there was no going back now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for the first portion of the story. Thanks for reading!


End file.
